Where everybody knows your name: Reflections on ‘Cheers’
Almost nightly now, for months, I’ve been vicariously living through the characters in the show, arguably one of the most successful sitcoms of all-time. There is something about “Cheers,” more than three decades after the series concluded in 1992, that still speaks to our collective understanding o
O P I N I O N
NOT THAT PROFOUND
By Nate Graziano
I’m not entirely sure what this says about me, but my current Happy Place—the one place where I feel completely at peace with the universe—is on the couch in my living room watching reruns of the sitcom “Cheers.”
Here is a scene—the mise en scene, if you please.
INT. LIVING ROOM IN THE GRAZIANO HOME-NIGHT
It’s dark, and NATE GRAZIANO lies supine on a gray couch, fleece blankets bundled by his feet. His dog, a pug named Buster, snoozes and snores softly on the blankets. There is a coffee table beside him with a prescription bottle for Ativan, a zip-sealed bag of indica edibles called Zonked, and a tall glass of ginger ale with ice. On the flatscreen television that is mounted above the fireplace, an old episode from Season 10 of the sitcom “Cheers” plays on PlutoTV, a free app accessed through Roku. The episodes run consecutively, one after the other, until Nate feels his eyelids close, and he is transported.
CUT TO:
INT. CHEERS BAR-AFTERNOON
NORM enters.
NORM
Afternoon, everybody.
EVERYONE
NORM!
Almost nightly now, for months, I’ve been vicariously living through the characters in the show, arguably one of the most successful sitcoms of all-time. There is something about “Cheers,” more than three decades after the series concluded in 1992, that still speaks to our collective understanding of comradity, conviviality and community.
Cheers is a place that is both physical—the establishing shots used were used from an actual bar in Boston, although the inside of the bar looks nothing like its iconic set—and psychological. I truly believe that all of us long for our “Cheers,” a place where we feel seen, accepted and comfortable.
For my entire life, I’ve sought out “Cheers” wherever I’ve lived. Some of this, of course, overlaps with my penchant for alcoholic beverages, but there is no dictum saying that your “Cheers” needs to be a bar.
As I said, “Cheers” can also be a state of mind.
For the past two decades, my “Cheers” in Manchester has been Chelby’s Pizza on Mammoth Road. Through different owners and different staff and bartenders, it has remained the one place where I can go and feel like I’m comfortable, where everybody knows my name1.
Like many of the sitcoms from the ’80s and ’90s, some of the episodes haven’t aged particuarly well given our modern sensibilities—there is some blatant misogyny that reinforces rigid gender roles—but I’ve never been a member of the PC police, and if you can’t laugh at jokes, you’re likely taking yourself far too seriously.
And I still laugh at “Cheers,” often and loudly, from the couch with Buster at my feet. The show has a soothing effect on me—although my nightly cocktail of sedatives probably aids this—and I feel like a patron of a place from my past.
So when Norm Peterson walks through the bar door and greets us with a hearty, “Afternoon, everybody,” I sit up slightly and smile.
“Norm!” I yell from this place where everybody knows my name.
- For God’s sake, the owners recently served me a cake on my 50th birthday! And when I’m not at my “Cheers” on Mammoth Road, I’m at home watching those reruns from my Happy Place. ↩︎
Reach Nate Graziano at ngrazio5@yahoo.com.
